


Overboard

by Bouncy_cat



Category: Overboard (1987), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Overboard, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouncy_cat/pseuds/Bouncy_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles works as an electrician and is called to do a job on a luxury yacht, owned by the filthy rich couple Derek and Kate Hale. </p><p>Things don't go so well, but when Derek falls overboard and ends up in Stiles' town with amnesia... Stiles decides to get a little revenge.</p><p>A.k.a: The Sterek version of the 1987 movie Overboard. </p><p>Featuring Derek in the role of Goldie Hawn and Stiles as Kurt Russel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I will not, I repeat, _will not_ sit in this little shithole town with nothing to do. So while you repair your stupid boat engines, I will be having a new entertainment system installed in my fitness room. I’ve already sent for an installer.”

Derek nearly winces at his wife’s declaration. It’s not like they don’t have the money, but it seems like a waste when they already have a home theatre set in the lounge as well as in their bedroom.  He doesn’t show his displeasure though, not wanting to put her in a foul mood. “Do whatever dear,” he mutters, “I’ll be in the engine room, talking to the mechanic.”

He’s about to go below deck, when someone steps on board.

“Hello?! Mr. Hale? Anybody home?”

Derek grumbles at the interruption. He walks back to the rear deck and sees a pale, brown-eyed man standing there.

“Hello?” the man calls out again.

“I’m Derek Hale. What do you want?” Derek growls.

The man’s eyes snap to him and he takes a startled step back. “Hi! Nice-looking boat you’ve got here. It’s like, what, 90 feet?”

Derek doesn’t answer, just stares the man down. He has no patience for babbling fools. Not now, not when Kate finally agreed to visit his family again, and then the stupid engines of the stupid ship had to go and die and not even the fucking crew knows what happened. So now they’re stuck here in the harbour of Mill creek, when all Derek wants to do is see his family.

“Uh, someone called for an electrician?” the man says lamely.

“That’s my wife’s department,” he growls in response. Then he turns on his heels and walks away.  He doesn’t feel like dealing with the man. Kate called him, she can deal with it. He has a mechanic to find, so he can get the damn ship moving again.

===============

“Awkward” Stiles mumbles quietly to himself. He’d been kind of exited when Scott relayed the call about the ship owners urgently needing an electrician. His job wasn’t all that interesting usually, mostly just installing power outlets, rewiring old houses, adding new circuits, and other little jobs like installing home entertainment systems and what not. But on a ship everything is different. More fluctuations and spikes in power, different power sources at different times…

So yeah, he’d been a little excited.

But so far, the experience hasn’t lived up to his expectations. Mr. Hale may be filthy rich, but he’s got a piss poor attitude. The fact that he’s incredibly hot only makes it worse. _Such a waste_. Stiles can only hope the guy’s wife isn’t as bitchy as her husband.

Right that moment a gorgeous blonde woman comes sashaying down the stairs from a higher deck. Stiles didn’t known it was possible to sashay down stairs, but the woman is managing it somehow. She’s wearing, well, she’s wearing _something_ , but he isn’t sure what to call it exactly. It’s a bathing suit, sure, but he’s never seen a bathing suit cut that high, and that low, before. She’s wearing a jacket above it, but it hides exactly nothing. So Stiles thinks he’s excused if it takes him a few seconds to reach her eyes.

When he does, he startles slightly. They’re cold, calculating and judgemental. “ _You’re_ the electrician?” She says, with a look of disdain. 

Stiles looks down at himself, he’s wearing jeans and a simple blue T-shirt underneath a plaid shirt, his usual work get-up. People don’t usually care what the electrician wears. Stiles has a suspicion that _she_ does. 

“Yeah,” he says, walking up to her, “Stiles Stilinski, hi, how are-”

“You’re late.”

Wow, they’re getting off to a good start, he thinks wryly. And she’s being totally unreasonable. How the hell can he be late when they hadn’t even set a time? She’d called, Scott sent him out, and he drove straight here. _Unfair_.

She turns her back on him and starts walking and he supposes that’s his cue to follow. Yeah, boat or not, he’s not going to enjoy this job.

“References?” She demands.

“Ummm, not really, you see I just moved up to this area, but I’ve been doing this work for a while now and I have a lot of experience.”

She doesn’t answer and Stiles looks around awkwardly.  They enter a large cabin, so lavishly decorated it’s almost ridiculous. “Wow,” he says, “this is beautiful”. _If you like that sort of thing_. Which he doesn’t. But hey, rich snobs generally react well to flattery, insincere or otherwise.

“Try not to touch anything,” she says, and Stiles can barely refrain from rolling his eyes. _  
_

“Danny will keep an eye on you.”

 _Oh my god._ Stiles is almost insulted enough to tell these crazies they can find themselves another electrician, but hell, he needs the money. He’s got kids to take care off, so he bites his tongue, which for Stiles takes a humungous effort. He can’t help himself though and a tiny little snark escapes. “Maybe you’d like to take fingerprints before I start.”

The look she throws him is so frosty he lets out an awkward laugh and holds up his hands. “Just kidding.”

After a long trek through the ship Stiles figures they have to be close to their destination. “So, where’s your problem?”

“My fitness room.”

“Uh-huh” _Right._   Of course they have a fitness room aboard this thing.

“In here”

They enter a ridiculously well equipped gym. It’s got a treadmill, a cross trainer, a stairmaster, a vibration plate, weights…

“Now,” she says, “you can see how inadequate this all is.”

“Uh.”

 “I want a large screen, high definition, blu-ray and surround sound of course-”

 _What?_ “Um, excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “I was told this was some kind of emergency?”

“It is. How can I be expected to keep in shape in this mind numbingly boring room?”

 _Listen to your Ipod?_   Stiles wants to suggest.

He looks around at the room that any fitness fanatic would kill for.

“Hello?” She says icily.

"Uh, hey, I’m sorry, I understand now. You want me to install an entertainment system for you.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been explaining? Is English your second language?”

Dear lord, Stiles wants to smack her.

A good-looking guy walks into the room, providing a welcome distraction. He’s carrying a tray with a bowl of caviar and some crackers. Even the damn crackers look expensive.

“Well,” miss Hale says, in a bitchy tone, “I almost had to wait.”

She takes a bite, not offering Stiles any of course.  Not that he particularly wants any, he’ll take curly fries over squishy fish eggs any day, but still, it’s just bad manners.

 She pulls an ugly face, which is quite an accomplishment, because bitch or not, Stiles has to admit, the woman is gorgeous. “Ugh,” she says, “what is this crap? Danny, when I tell you to pack staples, I expect you to buy good quality caviar, not this $1,99 fishbait.”

The butler, Danny, just nods with a serene expression on his face. “Yes m’am.”

The pay must be really good here, Stiles thinks, because why else would anyone put up with this shit?

The woman turns back to him. “You have exactly 48 hours. I suggest you get started.”

She turns to go.

“Wait,” Stiles calls after her, “I’ll need to buy supplies. Do you have any preferences? How will we arrange it, you know, money wise?”

The stuck-up bitch doesn’t even turn around, just waves her hand vaguely. “Danny,” she says, like that’s in any way helpful. Then she walks out of the room.

Danny stays behind though and fishes a credit card out of an unseen pocket. “Here,” he says, giving the card to Stiles, “you can use this to buy whatever you need.”

Stiles frowns at the card before taking it. “She didn’t even give me a budget.”

Danny smirks at him. “I wouldn’t worry about it, if I were you. Just make sure that whatever you buy, it’s good quality. She has expensive tastes.”

_Obviously_

Danny leaves him alone and Stiles is left to stare at the fitness room.  48 hours, fucking hell.  He’s got some ideas but he’s going to have to move fast if he wants to get the necessary equipment in time. With the credit card in hand he finds his way outside. He doesn’t come across Danny, or Mr. and Mrs. Filthy rich, so he can’t tell anyone he’s leaving, but he really doesn’t think they would give a damn anyway.

Most of that day is spent going to different stores in the area…and way out of the fucking area for that matter. He’s almost continuously on the internet or on the phone looking up places where they have what he needs, but in the end he manages to find it all. Thank fuck.

He returns to the ship to carry his haul on board and spends another hour on preparations before he really has to go. He doesn’t like leaving the kids alone for so long but he really doesn’t have much choice.  Even if he could afford a baby-sitter, he wouldn’t be able to find one who’s willing to look after his four little…well, _angels_ isn’t exactly an accurate description.

Boyd doesn’t like to talk much and somehow people interpret that as being rude. Lydia is incredibly, wonderfully, smart, but sadly seems to regard the presence of a baby-sitter as an opportunity for social experimentation. Lately she’s been especially interested in the concept of phobias.

Erica has a bit of a temper and Isaac, the youngest, has a history of abuse and tends to hide away from strangers.

Add to that the fact that three of them are werewolves…well, there’s not a single baby-sitter left that’ll even give it a shot. 

 

\---------------

The next morning Stiles arrives early, ridiculously early, and sets to work immediately. He spends some time deciding the ideal set-up, before getting started with the grunt work. Since yesterday was spent almost entirely on collecting everything he needed, he really only has today to get everything installed. It’s going to be a stretch, and frankly, he’d rather be somewhere else. Keep your mind on the money, he reminds himself.

So he connects wires and carefully removes part of the panelling from the wall to hide them, using flexible tubing to organise everything neatly and safely.

It’s a time consuming job and before he knows it, it’s noon and Danny ambles in with a drink and a sandwich for him. Stiles thanks him and rolls his eyes when Ms. Hale immediately demands Danny’s presence over the intercom. There’s a sofa in the bedroom across from the fitness room and, seeing as how he’s been working non-stop for four and a half hours, he decides to take a little break.

He sinks down on the sofa, puts his feet up on a foot-stool and closes his eyes. There’s a window in the cabin that lets in a cool summer breeze and he breathes in deeply, content just to sit there for a moment.

He doesn’t even notice he’s not alone until an irritated grumble startles him. Mr. Hale, Derek, gives him an annoyed look and Stiles realizes he’s blocking the way so he hurriedly pulls his feet out of the way, nearly falling off the sofa as he does.

Stiles watches as the man stalks toward his dresser, the guy even walks grumpily. He rummages around in it for a second and pulls out some clothes.

Stiles swallows audibly when the guy pulls the shirt he’s wearing up over his head and tosses it on the bed.  He can’t help but stare, because absolute prick or not, that muscled back with the strange tattoo right in the center of it, is something straight out of a magazine. He’s sad to see it covered up with a clean shirt moments later.

Derek stands still for a moment, like he’s hesitating, and then he abruptly shoves his shorts down. He quickly steps out of them and pulls on clean ones, but not before giving Stiles a perfect view of a truly magnificent ass. Somehow the tiny, strawberry shaped, birthmark on his left cheek only enhances its appeal. As soon as the firm, round globes are out of view, Stiles averts his eyes. Can’t be caught ogling one of your bosses after all.

Without a word Derek stalks out of the room and Stiles gets up with a sigh. Break’s over, he’s got some surge suppressors to install.

Stiles is nearly finished, and he has to say, it looks pretty damn good, when he hears Ms. Hale’s annoyingly sharp voice whining again. About nail-polish of all things.

He sneaks a peek out of the tinted windows. Danny is polishing Ms. Hale’s toes, and Derek is sitting close by, typing furiously on a really expensive looking lap-top. Maybe he’s working.

When Ms. Hale complains about her hair, Derek says, in a carefully neutral tone, “Kate, why don’t you go inside for a little bit then?”

So…the bitch’s name is Kate…she doesn’t look like a Kate, more like Victoria or something, Stiles thinks.

“I can’t,” Kate says, “that idiot electro-mechanic is still inside. How long could it possibly take to install an entertainment system? All these villagers are so damn slow, must be inbreeding or something.”

Jesus fucking Christ, Stiles is tempted to throw open the window and give her a piece of his mind but he restrains himself, though barely. “Keep your mouth shut for ten more minutes,” he mutters to himself, “collect the money and get the hell out of here.”

Mere minutes later Kate strolls into the room, wearing another ridiculous, and probably wildly expensive, bathing suit. “Well,” she says, with a mean smile, “have you been amusing yourself?”

And suddenly Stiles is sure she knew perfectly well her voice was audible inside, and she enjoyed insulting him, knowing that if he stood up for himself she could accuse him of eavesdropping. His dislike for her ratchets up another level, but he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction so he just smiles as serenely as he can.

Her mouth twitches and she turns to look around the room. It looks great, and he’s proud of the results of his labor. 

“What is this?” Kate says coldly.

“Well,” Stiles says, “I’m done, I’m finished.  What do you think?” He gestures around the room, turns the TV on, and increases the volume a little so she can hear the surround sound system he set up. The sound is beautiful, flawless. “I installed surge suppressors to protect the equipment, and you can control everything from one remote control. There’s an easy menu so you can switch between-”

“Stop boring me with your blabbering, what brand is this?”

“Umm, Lantic?” It’s a company specialized in entertainment systems for luxury yachts. From what Stiles has found in reviews, they’re one of the best.

“Lantic?” She draws out the name like it’s something disgusting and turns around with a huff. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised.”

Stiles grits his teeth and mutters, “I don’t know, why are you?”

“I don’t know this brand, haven’t even heard the name before. Did you really think you could get away with installing this…crap?”

“Hey now, this is not-” Stiles flails.

“I bet you thought you could install some cheep inferior equipment, and bill us for top quality-” 

“Now wait a minute,” Stiles yells, “don’t you dare! I have receipts for every purchase I made, and I bought high quality stuff, designed especially for use on ships. If you wanted a specific brand you should have asked for it.  You can’t just give someone carte blanche and then complain when-”

“I expected that even someone from a backwards little shithole like this, would know to buy systems from a respectable brand! Apparently I was wrong, never too old to learn right?” She laughs abruptly, sounding crazy, even more so when she stops just as suddenly. Then she turns around and walks out of the room. “Pack your stuff and get out. You’re fired.”

“Fine!” he yells at her. He grabs his tool belt, and follows her outside. “Just pay me the money you owe me!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I worked my ass off for two days! You think I’m just going to let you sail off into the sunset with your brand-new top quality entertainment system? You owe me 500 hundred bucks!”

“The job was not done to my satisfaction.” She says icily.

“No, no it wasn’t.” Stiles fumes, “And you know why? Because no job is ever going to be done to your satisfaction. You’re so goddamn bored you’ve got to invent things to bitch about. Your fitness room was great! The system I installed is great! You just wanted to create some drama to spice up your nail-polishing, toe-polishing, rich bitch, sun tanning days!” By the end of his last sentence he’s yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Hey”

Stiles jumps, startled by the voice coming from behind him. It’s Derek.

“What’s going on here? The engines were fixed yesterday; we’re leaving in a couple of minutes.”

Kate immediately speaks up. “He’s trying to con us.”

“What?!” Stiles whips back around and jabs his hand in her direction. “Lady, you are insane, and frankly, I want nothing more to do with you! As soon as you pay me the money you owe me, I’m gone.”

Derek growls behind him. “Don’t touch her.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles flails his hands in frustration, “you’re _both_ crazy. Well you know what? Screw you people! I’m calling the cops. They can figure this out.” He leans against the railing and pulls out his phone. “You want to leave? Too bad! Because this ship’s not going anywhere until the police get here.”

He’s not expecting what happens next. Maybe he should have seen it somehow; he adopted a couple of werewolf kids for crying out loud… But as it is, he startles badly when Derek suddenly gets in his face, eyes flashing blue, face contorting and razor-sharp incisors appearing out of nowhere. He jerks back instinctively, just a little bit too far, and the next thing he knows he’s falling and his breath is cut off when he hits the water.

He comes up sputtering, just in time to hear Derek order the captain of the ship to keep going.

“Holy shit. You’re going to regret this!” He hollers. “Don’t think you’ll get away with this! My dad’s the sheriff and- No! Not my-” He slaps the water in frustration as Kate chucks his tool-belt overboard.

 

There’s really nothing he can do but watch helplessly as the ship with the two psycho’s slowly sails away.

\--------------

Later that afternoon Stiles is sitting on Scott and Allison’s front porch. “I lost my tools,” he laments for the umpteenth time, “and my phone, Scott, they murdered my phone.”

His best friend pats his back sympathetically. “I know buddy. We’ll get you a new phone, and you can borrow my tools. And we’ll get your money too! They can’t just-”

Stiles shakes his head. “It’s no use Scott, I might have had a chance if I’d managed to get the cops there, but if I go to the police station now they’ll just tell me to get a lawyer and file a suit.” He rubs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I can’t afford the type of lawyer it’s going to take to take on the Hale family. They’re so filthy stinking rich; they’ll laugh in my face and then file ten thousand countersuits. I can’t win this.”

“Shit”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

They sit in silence for a few moments.

“Look, I’ll ask around again,” Scott finally says, “I’m sure I can find you some more part-time jobs with some of my clients.”

“I appreciate it buddy, but I need a steady job. I’ve got kids to feed. Werewolf kids!”

Scott snorts. “We do have a healthy appetite.”   

Stiles is glad Scott is finally at a point in his life where he can joke about being a werewolf. For the longest time his best friend hated his wolf side. Even though Stiles sometimes envies Scott for his strength and healing abilities, he’s never going to envy the way he got them. Bitten by a rogue wolf, having to figure everything out with only Stiles and his mom for support…And then of course he had to complicate matters by falling in love with the daughter of one of the most vocal anti-werewolf families in their hometown.

Scott got his happy ending though…he and Allison have been married for a year now, and she’s expecting their first child in about eight months. Allison wanted to wait the usual three months before telling anyone, but knowing Scott that was never going to happen. He blurted it out to Stiles barely an hour after Allison peed on the stick.

“Hey,” Scott bumps his shoulder and distracts him from his thoughts. “Pretty soon now we’re going to get that miniature golf course thing, and we’ll be in business!”

Stiles can’t help but smile at his friend’s enthusiasm. The whole mini-golf thing is a crazy idea. Crazy…but strangely appealing. Back in high school they used to fantasize about creating their own amusement park, but Stiles never thought they’d actually do something like that.

But then Scott went and became a carpenter, and Stiles got a degree in electrical engineering but ended up taking on all kinds of small jobs as an electrician, and Scott decided that the both of them together had the perfect skill set to actually try and make their silly little childhood dreams a reality.

Then Scott found this cheap plot of land and here they are, taking on every job they can find in this small town, just to keep their heads above water and their families fed until they can find someone to invest the money they need to get started. 

It was pretty big risk they took, moving out here, but Scott pulled the puppy-dog eyes on him, you can’t say no to that. And of course it didn’t hurt that Isaac told him he would be the coolest dad ever if he built a mini-golf court...  

 

 ---------------

Stiles drives home after his conversation with Scott. _Home_ , he snorts at the thought, he really hopes they won’t have to call it home for very long. It’s more of a shack than a house, and it’s falling apart at the seams, but it was really cheap and the kids love the fact that it’s in the woods.

As he drives up to the house he notices another car parked there and at the same time a woman comes charging out of the house with two small wolves running circles around her.

“Erica! Boyd! Inside, now.” Stiles snaps.

The woman heaves a sigh of relief when the wolves dart back inside and grabs his shirt. “Are you mister Stilinski?”

“Yeah, wow, you okay? You look like you had a day like I did. What happened?”

She huffs. “Monday is their first day of school. And I came here to welcome your family, and what do I get in return? I get chased around and snapped at!”

Stiles laughs awkwardly. “They’re just playing around.” What he wants to say is ‘what the hell did you expect walking into a werewolf den unannounced?’ but he just moved here and the last thing he wants is to get a bad name in this town, so he bites his tongue.

“Just playing around? They were baring their teeth at me and snapping at my heels.”

“It’s uh- it’s a werewolf thing, they’ll grow out of it soon enough.  I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Adele Burbridge, _principal_ of the Mill Creek school.”

 Aw hell.

“Your children are monsters!”

 “You won’t think that once you get to know them.”

“Where is misses Stilinski when all of this is going on?”

Stiles ignores he pang in his heart he still feels when asked about her. “She died, four years ago.”

She looks sympathetic for a moment, but it soon passes. “Mister Stilinski, your children are totally lacking in parental supervision.”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me these kids are lucky.” He jokes.

“Fine,” she snaps, as she gets into her car, “you can joke all you want but I am serious about this. If you don’t do something, I am going to notify the proper authorities.”

Shit. He can’t let that happen. He already had a visit from child services shortly after Heather died.  They wanted to make sure he could still cope with the responsibility of raising four adopted kids, now that his wife was gone. If this Burbridge woman started complaining about his parenting skills, he might actually lose them. “Look,” he says desperately, “I’ve had babysitters in here by the dozen, I’m kinda low on cash right now. I’m new in town, but if I get a chance I’ll hire a housekeeper, alright?”

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it, good day mister Stilinski!”

Stiles watches her drive off and heaves a big sigh before going inside to fix his kids dinner.

 

===============

Derek turns on his side, facing Kate, and tries to ignore the flashing lights of the television. It would be more effective to turn the other way, but lately he has trouble turning his back to her. Which is ridiculous, she’s his wife.

He used to be so completely, madly in love with her.

His parents didn’t approve. She was older. Too old, they thought, and of course there was the matter of her family. Her very outspoken anti-werewolf family… Kate had cut all ties with them though, and she’d been there for him after the fire...

The fire that severely injured, and almost killed, three quarters of his family. It would have killed them if his uncle Peter hadn’t managed to escape the house and set the others free. Most are werewolves, so they healed quickly, but some human family members spent months in the hospital. His aunt still has horrible scars on her back.

It took a terrible toll on their family, not just the injuries and the traumatic memories, but also the realization that some people hate their kind so much they would kill an entire innocent family.

Kate stuck to him like glue. She comforted him, distracted him when his parents fought about staying or moving away and leaving the old Hale territory behind. She went with him when he visited family members in the hospital. And he was so fucking grateful for it.

He was nineteen when he asked her to marry him. She said yes.

He thought that his parents would come around after their marriage, after she officially became part of their family, but they’ve always kept their distance. Maybe that’s why Kate never wants to visit his parents and siblings. 

It’s starting to take its toll on their relationship though.

And there are other things.

She has a mean streak, a kind of cruelty that he never noticed before. Oh she tones it down when she’s with him, but sometimes she seems to forget about his werewolf hearing, and he hears her snap at their servants. He likes to think it’s a new development, that maybe she’s just upset for some reason, or bored, and she’s taking it out on their crew. But there’s always that nagging doubt in the back of his mind telling him that maybe it was always there and he just didn’t see it. 

 Kate stretches next to him and grabs some lotion from the nightstand. She pours some of the strong smelling stuff into her hands and starts rubbing them.

“Derek,” she says suddenly, “I left my wedding ring on the deck.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Go get it.”

“It’s after midnight Kate,” and he’s fucking tired, “It’ll still be there tomorrow.”

“I don’t care what time it is, I want it now.” She suddenly seems to realize how harsh she sounds, and she abruptly changes her tone. “It’s my _wedding_ ring, honey.” 

The sweet sentimentality sounds fake to his ears, but now that she’s finally agreed to visit his parents again, he doesn’t want to do anything to ruin her mood. “I’ll go get it.”  He tells her tiredly.

 

As he walks out of the bedroom he throws a glance at the fitness room and feels a stab of guilt. It looks good.  Great actually. The electrician did a really good job, and he found the receipts the man left behind. Tomorrow he’ll make a call and wire the money they owe. And a little extra to compensate for the less than ideal way they parted.

\---------------

It’s dark outside, cloudy, and there’s a strong wind. The ship rolls with the waves, and he has to grab on to the railing several times to keep from stumbling.

He slowly makes his way to the deck and searches for the stupid ring, finally spotting it in the most impractical place she could have put it, behind the pillow of the seat at the very front of the ship.

He bents over to grab the ring, but drops it when the ship lurches. Cursing beneath his breath he makes another grab for it but his foot slips between two of the pillows and at the same time the ship lurches to the other side.

He loses his balance and only realizes the danger he’s in when it’s already too late. He grabs desperately for the railing, claws coming out in a last ditch attempt to keep himself on board.

He hangs on for a moment before his hold slips, leaving deep gouges in the paint as he falls into the cold, dark water.

 

 ===============

Stiles grabs a bowling ball, does a little hop and skip and throws it down the lane.  It hits down exactly one pin. Figures.

He hears Marie, the owner of the bowling alley snicker behind him. “You about done?” She asks him.

“Yeah,” he says, as he watches the sweep come down. “I think I’ve got it fixed.”

“Your lunch is on the counter,” she tells him sweetly, “it’s waiting for yah.”

That’s one of the perks when Scott and he are hired to fix stuff at the bowling alley. Free lunches. Oh yeah. 

He climbs onto a bar stool and grabs his plate, popping a curly fry into his mouth with a moan of contentment. There is literally nothing better than curly fries.

Behind the bar there’s a flatscreen and Stiles focuses on it when he sees the local news anchor come on.

_“This is Wilbur Budd again, with the local news. It seems we have a little excitement down here in Mill county, I’ve got a bulletin here from the newsroom. It’s seems a mystery man was picked up this morning by the Mill Creek garbage scow. They’ve fished him out of the water and he’s conscious now, but the problem is, he seems to be suffering from amnesia. He has no recollection of who he is._

_Now my wife Rose is down there with the captain of the Garbage Scow who picked up this mystery man.”  “Mister Tunatti,” Rose says, “can you tell us what the mystery man was like when you brought him aboard?”_

_“Yes, we saw something floating in the water like this…” He spreads his arms out wide and mimes a body floating with the head down. “First we thought it was a- Foca, a seal, but then we came closer and we saw…It was a man. So we threw out a net and bring him up, and we think… he’s dead, so we call the cops, yes? Then suddenly he growled!” The man growls menacingly at the camera. “And his eyes, they change color! And there’s the long teeth. So we think, wolf man, he may be dangerous, and Rick knocks him out with the boat hook.” Mr. Tunatti raises his arms up in the air like he’s holding a bat or, well, a boat hook and brings them down like he’s smashing something. “And again and…again…because he keeps waking up and growling…until the police they come pick him up.”_

_“Wow, Mr. Tunatti,” Rose says, “thank you for this…umm…demonstrative account of this morning’s adventure. Back to you Wilbur._

_“Thank you Rose, now ladies and gentlemen, we’ll now show a recording of an interview we had with the mystery man this morning.”_

_The screen cuts to the view of a dark haired man, lying on a gurney, looking like he’s ready to murder someone._

Stiles chokes on a curly fry when he recognizes the familiar grumpy face of Derek Hale, and has a vicious coughing fit before he can focus back on the screen.

_“Mister,” Rose stammers, “do- do you know your name?”_

_“Of course.” Derek growls at her. “It’s- ” There a short silence and then Derek takes a frustrated swipe at the microphone. “Get that thing out of my face.”_

_Rose stands there a little shell-shocked while the dark-haired werewolf is wheeled into another room._  

“Scott!” Stiles yells, while the camera zooms in on a picture of Derek Hale’s face. “Scott!”

Scott comes skidding around the corner. “What is it?”

“Look at this!” Stiles says, pointing at the screen. “That’s him.”

“Who?”

“The bastard!”

The both of them stare at the screen as Rose continues. _“Earlier today one woman arrived at the scene to make an identification, but to everyone’s disappointment a positive identification could not be made.”_

Stiles watches open mouthed as Kate Hale quickly walks away from the camera being pointed at her.  She has sunglasses on that cover nearly half her face, but he recognizes her anyway.  “I can’t believe that bitch is skipping out on him.”

“Maybe we should get down to hospital and see if we can get some of your money back” Scott suggests.

“Naw,” Stiles shakes his head, “look at her, she’s long gone.  She hightailed it out of there.”

“Not from her, from _him_.”

Stiles sighs. “He doesn’t know who _he_ is, you think he’s gonna know who _I_ am?”

And then it hits him. The craziest, stupidest idea he’s ever had, for sure, but it’s too good to let it go. “Scott, buddy, there is a god, and he loves Stiles Stilinksi.”

“What are you- Stiles? You’re not thinking about-”

“Scott, I’ve got to go home and talk to my kids.”

"No way Stiles, it’s never going to work, the guy is a werewolf. He’ll know you’re lying immediately.”

“No, he won’t.”

“Stiles.”

“Dude, didn’t you see his neck?”

“What about it?”

Stiles points to the screen, where they’re showing Derek’s picture again. “Look at him Scott, they collared him.”

“That means he’s violent!”

Stiles waves his hand in dismissal. “He growled at the guys that fished him out of the water, probably just confused from almost drowning. But you know it’s going to take months of good behavior and evaluations before they remove it. He’ll have no more strength than a regular human being! No super hearing, no super smelling. Gotta go buddy.”

“Stiles, don’t do it!” Scott calls after him. “Stiles! It’s illegal; you’ve got to realize that, your dad is the sheriff for crying out- Stiles!”

Stiles doesn’t hear any more because he’s already out the door. 

 

 ---------------

Stiles straightens his jacket, trying to look presentable and trustworthy before walking into the hospital, he’s so nervous his heart is pounding and he can only hope there aren’t any other, non-collared, werewolves nearby.

One of Mill counties deputies is waiting for him inside. “I was beginning to wonder whether a guy like that even has a significant other.” The man says it with a pained smile.

“Yeah, he does.” Stiles answers. Not him, of course, but they don’t know that.

“Here are some personal affects you might recognize.” The deputy digs a pair of black boxer briefs out of a bag. “ There are some initials in here, DH, but we asked and he didn’t know what they meant.”

“He wouldn’t”, Stiles answers. “I bought those at a thrift shop. What else have you got in there?”

“Got some pictures. We were going to put them on the AP wire, but now that you’re here…”

Stiles looks through picture after picture of Derek looking absolutely murderous. “Yeah, that’s my boy alright. Looks all tough, but really, he’s like a giant marshmallow.”

“If you say so,” the deputy says. He dials a number on his phone and moments later he says, “Doc, we’ve got a winner.” After he hangs up he gestures for Stiles to follow him. They enter the psychiatric ward, and walk into one of the rooms just in time to hear the tail end of a conversation between Derek and his doctor. 

“Well, what _do_ you know?” Derek growls.

The doctor shifts nervously. “You seem to be suffering from a temporary amnesia, either from the shock of the, well, drowning, or the bump into the garbage scow, or repeated blows to the head afterwards…”

“How temporary is it?”

“Well, we don’t know that exactly.”

“Then take this stupid thing off my neck, so I can fucking heal!”

“Well, sir, you know we can’t do that…the collar is there for our safety, and we realize your aggression was caused by the uh…accident and the subsequent…subduing of your person, but now that you have been collared there are procedures that must be followed before we can release you. Anyway, other than the amnesia you seem to be in excellent physical shape, so it’s quite possible that removing the collar would make no difference at all.”

Derek huffs in frustration as he paces through the room. “I demand-”

“Babe!” Stiles says, stepping further into the room. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”

“Who the fuck are _you_?” Derek snaps.

The doctor turns towards Stiles. “Your partner has had an almost total loss of memory.”

Stiles frowns. “Come on, I can’t believe he doesn’t recognise his own husband…”

“You are not my husband.” Derek snarls. “I don’t have a husband.”

“Aww, Danny, please?”

“Danny…” Derek mutters, “Danny…No. That’s not my name.”

“Honey,” Stiles says softly as he pushes Derek towards a chair. It’s like pushing against a brick wall. “Babe,” he says when Derek is finally sitting. “Everything’s going to be okay. My name is Stiles Stilinski. I _am_ your husband. We had our bonding ceremony eight years ago.”

Derek shoves Stiles away with one hand, and Stiles has to take a quick couple of steps back to avoid falling flat on his ass. Derek may not have werewolf strength, but he’s pretty damn strong without it too. 

“I. Do not. Remember you.”

“Well, maybe you’ll remember this!” Stiles steps forward and without warning plants a firm kiss on Derek’s lips. It’s probably shock that prevents Derek from pushing Stiles away immediately and he takes advantage by swiping his tongue across Derek’s lips before backing off.

The deputy and the doctor are chuckling, but Derek himself is turning red with fury. “You could be anyone,” he growls, “where is your proof?”

The deputy sighs, and turns to Stiles with an apologetic look. “Hey, if it were up to me, I’d let you take him home right now, but he’s right. We’re going to need some kind of verification.”

“Well,” Stiles says as earnestly as he can manage. “I don’t have anything on me right now, I mean, I jumped in the car and rushed over here as soon as I saw his face on the TV.  I was so worried…I didn’t think of bringing anything. But…well he has his Triskele tattoo of course, in the middle of his back, but also, and this is kind of private, he has this small,strawberry shaped birthmark in the middle of his left cheek. It’s unique.”

Derek frowns at the three of them and then walks into the bathroom. The frown has only gotten deeper when he comes out of the bathroom, but they can all tell he’s seen the birthmark for himself.

The deputy high fives the doctor and Stiles opens his arms wide. “Danny!”


	2. Chapter 2

The ride home is awkward, to say the least. Derek is sitting with his arms crossed, scowl on his face like he wants to murder someone, and Stiles can’t help but play with him a little.

He takes his right hand off the steering wheel and drops it on Derek’s thigh, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion that he knows damn well isn’t particularly soothing to the other man. 

Derek goes rigid beneath his hand and holy hell _those are some fine leg muscles_. Stiles chances a look at Derek, whose eyes are darting between Stiles own, and the hand on his leg, eyebrows raised like he’s saying what the hell do you think you’re doing?

Derek looks like he’s seconds away from maiming him so Stiles takes his hand away with one last squeeze. “Don’t worry babe, your memory will come back. You heard the doctor.”

“What the hell was I doing out in the ocean anyway?” Derek grumbles.

“Well, what can I say, you like your exercise, and sometimes you want to do more than going for a run, so once in a while you like to go swimming.”

“At night?”

“Hey, you’re the wolf, babe, I can’t pretend to understand all of those wild wolfy instincts.”

“Werewolves don’t like swimming.”

“Well, you sure seem to.”

They go back to awkward silence after that.

After another fifteen minutes Stiles turns into the dirt road to his home. He studies Derek intently when the other man climbs out of the jeep and he’s not disappointed by the look of intense distaste on his face. “Welcome home, babe”

“No,” Derek huffs, “I don’t know this place.”

“Well, we’ve only lived here a couple of weeks really, lots of stuff is still in boxes and we still need to clean up. I hardly recognize the place myself.”

“We moved here? _Deliberately_?”

“Well, you wanted to be closer to the woods. Doesn’t get any closer than this, does it?” Stiles grabs Derek’s hand, despite the eyebrow threats, and drags him toward the house. “Come on.”

“Our new palace,” he says once they step inside, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Derek looks around with an unreadable expression on his face and Stiles stares around the room himself, trying to imagine what a filthy rich bastard like Derek Hale might think of it. He wants to feel satisfaction at making Derek believe this is their home, but he can’t help but feel embarrassment.

The place really is a mess. There are clothes and boxes everywhere, dirty plates from breakfast and lunch on the table, half eaten snacks lying around. All the furnishings are old and decrepit...

He puts his hand on Derek’s back. “Let me show you around, maybe something will come back to you.”

The grand tour of the house isn’t exactly grand. “Here’s the dining room, the toilet, and back here is the old ‘magic room’.  

The bedroom looks like shit, just like the rest of the house. “Put a lot of miles on that mattress, huh?” He says, just to needle Derek. He doesn’t get an answer, wasn’t expecting one. “Later.”

When they walk up the stairs, a half shifted Boyd races past them, followed closely by a just as feral-looking Erica, Lydia follows more sedately, notebook and pen at the ready. Erica and Boyd are snarling at each other and Isaac is contributing by throwing his toys at their heads one by one.

“Guys,” he says, there’s no reaction, “guys, guys!” Finally they turn toward him. “Look who’s back?”

“Hi dad,” they say in chorus.

Derek makes a choked sound. “They’re- They’re not mine.”

“Aww honey, I was sure you’d remember _them_.” 

“I think I’d remember if I had three chil-”

“Four, babe, don’t forget about little Isaac.” Stiles says, pointing to where the curly haired blonde is sitting at the top of the stairs.

Isaac waves shyly at Derek and then darts back into his room.

“Well, that’s about it-” Stiles starts to say, but when he looks to the side Derek is gone, seconds later the door slams and when he looks out the window he’s just in time to see Derek stomping off into the woods. Still dressed in his Mill creek Waste overall.

Stiles snorts and high fives Boyd. 

 

* * *

 

It takes Derek half an hour to get back. When he does, Stiles gently herds him into the bedroom and tells him he might feel better if he changes into some of his own clothes.

“Stiles,” Derek growls two minutes later, he’s holding up a blue and orange striped shirt, “these, no fit!”

“Well, try a different one then,” Stiles snarks back, “it’s not my fault you keep exercising like some kind of maniac. We can’t afford to keep buying you new shirts!”

Derek eventually steps out of the room in a worn, washed out, pale blue shirt, and Stiles wraps an arm around Derek’s shoulder.

Derek promptly shrugs it off.

“Look,” Stiles says, “I’m sure you have a million questions.  You’ve been through hell, so let’s just take it one step at a time, yes? First, let’s meet the kids.”

He tugs Derek over to where his four little devils are sitting on the couch. “Here in the middle we’ve got our girls, Erica, she’s a bit of a tomboy, likes to play a little rough sometimes. And Lydia, she’s our only human, except for me of course, and she’s smart as a whip.”

“Are you afraid of spiders?” Lydia promptly asks.

“No,” Derek says shortly.

“Alright,” Stiles laughs awkwardly, “moving on.” He hauls up Boyd from the couch and gives him a one-armed hug. “Here we’ve got the big guy. The way he’s growing, in another two years he going to be taller than either of us. Come on, babe, give it try, what’s his name?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Roy?”

“Nope, it’s Boyd.”

Erica pokes Boyd in the side hard, and he snarls at her. “Ooh,” she says, “I’m so scared, _Roy_.”

Boyd jerks away from Stiles and chases Erica back up the stairs. Lydia follows and Stiles is just quick enough to grab Isaac before he escapes too. “I hope you at least recall this guy,” he says, “He’s our newest addition to the family.  His name is Isaac.”

“Hi, dad.” Isaac says quietly.

“Give your dad a kiss,” Stiles tries, but he should have known better.  Saying hi is one thing; actually touching a stranger is something else entirely. Isaac yells no, and struggles hard enough that Stiles is forced to let go of him.

Derek drops down on the couch. He looks tired as hell. “Do they have a problem with their brain chemistry?”

He wants to take offence, but he’s distracted by the screaming coming from upstairs. “Hey! Hey guys, easy huh?  Come on!”

Boyd yells back. “It’s not us dad, it’s _Roy_.”

Stiles drops down next to Derek. “Great kids huh?” His enthusiasm sounds fake, even to his own ears.

The look in Derek’s eyes says it all.

It’s silent for a few moments, then Derek says “How?”

“How what?”

“How did we get them?”

“Well, you activated your magical werewolf womb and carried them all for nine months. You cheated on me to get Boyd, but I forgave you and I’m pretty sure the other three are mine…” He pauses to roll his eyes. “How do you _think_ we got them…we adopted.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls at him, “how did it happen, that we adopted _four_ kids, three of them wolves, who are obviously from different families?”

Stiles sighs. “We, uh, we always knew we wanted kids. So we started looking into the adoption process pretty early on.” _Pretty much as soon as they found out Heather couldn't have children._

Derek doesn’t say anything, so Stiles continues. “I’m from a small town, couple of hours drive from here, and about nine years ago, something terrible happened there. A rogue alpha started attacking families, murdering the adults and biting kids. Boyd was four when it happened. Erica was two and a half. Neither of them had any other relatives come forward to take care of them, so they were taken in by the BC’s Children’s home.

When all of our paperwork came through, and we visited the children’s home, this lady there told us about Erica and Boyd. They were inseparable by then. I know, I know, you wouldn’t think so _now_ , but they really were. She told us about how they were very unlikely to be adopted because of them being werewolves, and if someone did want to take either of them in, they would most likely be separated.” Stiles shrugs. “They already lost so much, you know? We didn’t want them to lose each other too.”

Derek nods. “And Lydia?”

“Hea-” Stiles coughs to mask his mistake. “Things were going really well with Boyd and Erica, and… you always wanted a big family, so we contacted the children’s home again. The same woman told us about this girl that kept being sent back there. Beautiful little girl, she had no shortage of potential parents wanting to take her home with them, but it never worked out.

I think none of them ever saw how incredibly smart she actually is.  I think they expected her to be cute and to be happy holding tea-parties with her barbies. That’s not Lydia. Once we figured out what she needed from us, she fit in perfectly. She has no trouble holding her own with the werewolves.”

Stiles absentmindedly plays with a thread hanging from one of the pillows. “We thought we were complete after Lyds came. But a year later the children’s home contacted us. Apparently we’re known as that couple that takes in the troubled cases. Isaac’s mom was a werewolf, and Isaac himself was born as one. After his mom was killed by hunters, he was severely neglected by his dad. The police found him in a locked freezer chest, after neighbours complained. Can you imagine that? He’s been with us for five years now.”

Derek is silent for a long time. Then he says, “What about my parents?”

Stiles sighs dramatically. “You haven’t spoken to them since I’ve known you.”

Derek frowns at that. “Why?”

“I’m not sure. You don’t like to talk about it.” It’s not a lie, Stiles figures; Derek doesn’t like to talk about _anything_.

Derek growls in frustration and Stiles pats him on the back soothingly.  “Now, now,” he says, “the doctor says the best thing for you is to get right back to your normal routine. You’ve got to get your memory back that way. So, you’ve got to do what you normally do.”

“What. Do I. Normally do.” Derek bites out.

Stiles grins.

* * *

 

 

Derek stares at the vegetables in front of them like they personally offended him somehow. “I cook these?”

“I buy ‘em, you cook ‘em. Hurry it up will you? We’re starving here!” Stiles says, barely able to suppress an evil villain-cackle. It wouldn’t surprise him if Derek never cooked a meal in his whole damn life.  

He plays with the kids while they wait at the kitchen table, hanging spoons from their noses and messing around. Derek is cutting vegetables, probably aiming for some kind of stir-fry. He seems to have it under control, until he tries to light the crappy stove.

Flames jump up high and Derek lets out a startled yelp that would have made Stiles laugh if the other man didn’t look absolutely frozen in fear. With a few quick steps Stiles reaches the stove and turns the burner off. Derek is still staring at it, lost in his own mind somewhere, and Stiles pushes him down on a chair. “Let me see that,” he says gently, prying Derek’s hands loose, looking at the small burn on Derek’s left hand. “That’s not so bad. I’ll get the burn ointment. You’ll be alright.”

When he comes back from the bathroom, it’s to the sight of a confused looking Derek, covered in fire extinguisher powder, and a proud-looking Erica and Boyd still aiming the extinguishers at him. “Way to hustle guys.”

* * *

 

They do actually manage to get dinner on the table eventually, even if it’s a little weird tasting, and once they’re done Stiles goes to grab his jacket.

“Where are you going?” Derek asks, alarmed.

“Out. I go out every night after dinner. Meet the boys at the bowling alley for a couple of beers…”

“Don’t leave me alone with them.” Derek hisses.

“Aww come on, honey, that’s not fair. You know we live like this. It never bothered you before. It’s just the way it is…I think you’d better get used to it.”

“When will you be back?”

“When I feel like it.” Stiles can see the disapproval on Derek’s face clear as day, and he decides to add a little extra to the fire in those eyes. “It just depends on how drunk I get.”

* * *

 

“How is it going with the bastard?” Scott asks Stiles while they sit at the bowling alley, drinking a beer.

 

It’s a luxury, sitting here with Scott, relaxing. He doesn’t get much of a chance to hang with Scott outside of work, with the kids and all. No matter what he said to Derek, Stiles doesn’t usually leave the kids alone in the evening unless he has no other choice.  “Well,” he says, “he’s a lousy cook, that’s for sure. But hey, as long as I don’t have to do it…”

“How long are you going to keep him?”

A tiny bit of guilt niggles in the back of Stiles mind at the way Scott puts it, _keep him_ , like some kind of pet. But he shoves it away. Derek Hale is an asshole who deserves a bit of punishment. “Let’s see…he owes me 500 bucks for the work, another 200 for my phone and my tools. If we take living expenses into account…let’s say he’ll need about a month to work off his debt”

 

* * *

 

Derek is laying on the couch when he hears Stiles get home. He keeps quiet, hoping that the man will think he’s asleep and leave him alone.

He’s exhausted. It took more than two hours to finally get the kids in bed and he can’t help but wonder how the hell this became his life. Four out of control children… a babbling fool for a husband who goes out drinking every night… a house that’s falling apart at the seams…

Worst of all, nothing seems even the slightest bit familiar to him, not even the kids. Maybe it’s because his senses are dulled because of the damn collar. He shouldn’t have snarled at the guys from the garbage scow, but he was so out of it, he doesn’t even remember doing it. And now it’s going to be two weeks at least before he’s even allowed to apply to have it removed.

Stiles quietly disappears into the bedroom and Derek is grateful.

Sleep doesn't come for a long time and when it does he has vivid dreams of a large ship that keeps going in the wrong direction.

* * *

 

AN: Come visit on [Tumblr](http://panda-pounce.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles stares at Derek’s sleeping form for a few moments.

He feels strangely reluctant to wake him up. Derek’s face looks softer while it’s relaxed in sleep. Mouth slightly open, eyelashes thick and dark against his cheekbones. He looks almost innocent.

Then Stiles remembers his tool-belt, lying somewhere at the bottom of the ocean, and he dumps half of his glass of water onto Derek’s face. “Wakey, wakey,” he says, while Derek gasps and looks up at him dazedly, still half asleep. “Time to get up. Gotta fix the kids’ lunches or they’ll miss their bus for school.”

Derek actually growls at him, although it’s not exactly impressive when he’s unable to shift, and mutters, “I don’t care if they don’t go to school.”

Stiles holds his breath and bites his lip to keep from snorting. “Okay,” he says innocently, “they’ll just be with you all day.”

He can literally see Derek processing that information. His face goes from a grumpy ‘leave me alone or I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth’ to a wide awake ‘oh hell no’, in five seconds flat.

The next fifteen minutes are a flurry of activity. While Stiles packs his stuff for work Derek clumsily makes the kids a lunch that consists of the messiest peanut butter and jelly sandwiches Stiles has ever seen. And for some reason the man feels compelled to haphazardly throw in some M&M’s too.

It’s a good thing Stiles’ kids will eat just about anything.

Lydia is the last to receive her lunch and she pats Derek on the arm. “Bye dad, you’re doing a great job.”

There’s a vulnerable look on Derek’s face when he looks at her and Stiles wonders for a moment what kind of social experiment Lydia is performing _now_.

“Alright, I’m off to work,” Stiles declares. “Someone has got to keep this family in the lap of luxury.”

He can practically hear Derek’s eyes rolling. “I figured you’d forget, so I made a list for you.”

“A list of what?” Derek grumbles.

“Stuff that needs to be done around the house.” It has more than 100 bullet points on it. Took Stiles an hour and a half to come up with them. “Alright, gotta go. Have a nice day honey!”

\-------------

When Stiles and the kids are all out the door Derek drops down on the couch with a heavy sigh. All he really wants to do is to curl up on it and go back to sleep. Anything he’d dream is undoubtedly better than his actual life.

He goes so far as to lie down and close his eyes…but it’s like the list Stiles gave him is burning in his hand. Maybe this attitude got him where he is today. Maybe he ignored his problems instead of really tackling them, and maybe that’s how he ended up with four wild kids and a husband that would rather spend his evenings at a bar than at home with his family.

He sits back up and looks at the list. It goes on and on and on and he feels his courage and new found determination dwindling, but when he really looks at the tasks, he’s surprised at how small and simple most of them are. It’s things like ‘do the dishes’, ‘wipe down the counter’, ‘change the sheets on the kids’ beds’. Sure there are other things on there like ‘re-organize the shed’ and ‘do something with the garden’, but most of the list consists of easy tasks and he thinks that maybe he can do this.

The first fifteen minutes he spends trying to find a pen to cross the items off the list when he finishes them and then he starts on the dishes. He figures getting the dishes done will take fifteen minutes, twenty tops, but he didn't count on the dishes being hidden throughout the house. There’s the breakfast stuff on the table of course, but then there are also the empty glasses on the porch, the dirty cereal bowls in the kids’ rooms, the dirty plates underneath Stiles’ bed, the two coffee cups in the bathroom, dirty forks that somehow ended up on top of a cabinet. When he thinks he’s finally collected it all he has a veritable mountain of dishes to wash. All in all doing the dishes takes him an hour and a half.   

It takes him all of 30 seconds to wipe down the counter though and he almost viciously crosses the second item off the list.

Six hours later he’s crossed 36 items of the list and the house looks, well not exactly presentable, but less like child protective services would instantly remove their kids from the house if they ever saw it. He feels…better. Less overwhelmed with the chaos that is apparently his life. Stiles said they just moved in here recently, it’s probably understandable that it’s still such a mess.

All in all he feels pretty accomplished; he even remembered to get some meat from the freezer to defrost for their dinner that evening. Chicken drumsticks, he figures he can bake them and put them in the oven. There are potatoes so he can make some baked potatoes too and he saw some lettuce in the fridge, and a cucumber, with a little bit of creativity he’ll be able to make something resembling a salad. Kids need vegetables, right? Even werewolf kids.

After he’s started a load of laundry in the ancient washing machine he found in the shed he sits down on the couch for just a moment. He’ll get started on the windows after he’s had a short break. Just a couple of minutes…

“No. You are not going back out there.”

Derek jerks awake at the sound of Stiles’ voice.

“But dad, it’s a bubble party.” Isaac whines.

“I know, but you've had your fun and now it’s time to get cleaned-up.”

Derek blinks a couple of times trying to clear his bleary eyes. Stiles is standing with his back to him wiping at Isaac's face with a dish towel. The boy is wet, muddy and, strangely, has soapy bubbles sticking to his hair and his clothes.

“What the hell.” he mumbles, when did the kids even come home?

He can see Stiles clenching his hands into fists when he hears him.

“Go on up to the bathroom and get those clothes off.” Stiles tells Isaac, “I’ll be up in a minute to help with the shower.”

When Isaac has disappeared Stiles turns around slowly, eyes narrowed, and Derek wonders just what he’s done wrong. His brain is still a bit sleep-addled and he throws a look at his list of chores, still lying on the coffee table. Maybe he missed some really important chore? Or maybe Stiles is just pissed that he didn't wake-up when the kids got home. 

When Derek looks back up, Stiles is staring at the list too, and then his shoulders slump and his glare disappears.

With a heavy sigh he sits down on the couch next to Derek. “You did all that? No wonder you needed a nap.”

“What happened?”

“I guess the amnesia made you forget how to use the washing machine too. You used too much soap and it foamed all over the place.”

“Shit.”

“Hey,” Stiles says with a tired smile, “at least it made the kids happy.”

“Is it broken?” Judging from the look of the entire house Derek’s not sure they’ll be able to afford to get a new one if it is. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. And most of the tools are up on shelves. It should be fine.  Probably a good thing you left the door open though.”

Derek plucks at a loose thread on his shirt. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Stiles says, bumping his shoulder into Derek’s. “Hey, I bought pizzas for dinner tonight.”

“Oh”

“Oh?”

“I uh- I got some chicken from the freezer, I thought we could eat potato wedges and drumsticks-”

Stiles perks up at that. “I’ll put the pizzas in the freezer. We can have them tomorrow.” He’s rubbing his hands together in what seems like glee. “It’s been ages since I had potato wedges. I think we have a spice-mix somewhere. You know what, I’ll go get the kids cleaned up, and you can start on dinner, alright?”

He’s grinning at Derek, all tiredness gone, and Derek can’t help but smile back. “What about the shed?”

Stiles flaps his hand. “The bubbles will disappear on their own. We might need to wipe some stuff down tomorrow. It’ll be fine.” Then he turns toward the stairs and yells, “Isaac, I’m coming up.  You better not be hiding buddy.”

A giggle from upstairs tells Derek that Isaac most likely is.

\----------- 

Dinner turns out pretty good. The chicken is a little too salty and the potato wedges are a little bit burned, but nobody seems to mind and everything gets eaten. Well, except for the salad, but at least Lydia ate it, and she guilt-tripped Stiles into eating some too.

Later that evening, when the kids are in bed Stiles finds a baseball game on the television and proceeds to conk out next to Derek. As Stiles snuffles and sleep-talks next to him Derek can’t help but think that maybe things aren’t as bad as they first seemed.

He still doesn't feel like he belongs here though.  Everything still feels new and strange. If he could only remember…

There has to be something that could jog his memory. Maybe if he could find some pictures of his and Stiles' live together. He stands up, careful not to wake Stiles and goes looking. He rifles through desk drawers and cabinets, but he keeps coming up empty. There are some pictures of the kids, a few of Stiles and this other guy, one enlarged picture of a pretty blonde woman in a wedding dress, but none of him and Stiles. He’s getting more and more frustrated and probably makes a little more noise than he should because when he’s just about to rip open a cardboard box to see if he can find some picture in there, Stiles appears behind him.

“Hey, what’re you doing?”

“Looking for stuff.”

“O..kay… what kind of stuff?”

“Pictures, memorabilia, something to spark my memory.”

“Right. Yeah. That might be a bit of a problem.”

“Why”

“Well, stuff got a little lost in the move you know.”

“What, everything? You’re telling me you can’t find a single photograph of our live together?” The cardboard box holds nothing more than dish towels, bed linen and a vase, and Derek shoves it away with a huff of frustration.

“Umm, well” Stiles trails off and sits down on one of the kitchen chairs, head bowed down.

Suddenly Derek has a strange sense of deja-vu. He’s seen Stiles sitting like that before, but not a chair, on a sofa, a nice looking sofa, nothing like their old decrepit couch. “Something’s familiar.”

“What?”

“ _You_ , I remember you, on a couch somewhere.”

Stiles waggles his eyebrows. “We did have some _very_ fun times on our couch, you know.”

Derek rolls his eyes and goes to grab another box.

“Aww, now you’re getting grumpy again," Stiles says, "You know, it’s been a busy day, you look tired, how about you just go to bed and I promise I’ll find some pictures of us and tomorrow you can see if that helps you remember anything, alright?”

Reluctantly Derek lets himself be pulled towards the bedroom. He _is_ tired though and the bed does look inviting, even as messy as it is.

\-----------

Stiles waits until he’s sure Derek is sound asleep before sneaking out of the house. He winces when he starts the engine, hoping that it won’t wake Derek or the kids up, and then he drives to Scott’s house. 

He knocks on the door softly until a sleepy-eyes Scott appears.

“Stiles, what are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“I _really_ need to use your computer and your printer buddy.”

“Why? Wait, don’t tell me, it’s because of the thing, isn’t it.”

“Got it in one.”

Scott heaves a put upon sigh. “Alright, come in, but you have to be really quiet okay? Allison’s sleeping.”

It takes Stiles four hours of intensive photoshopping, but he manages to create a couple of pretty realistic looking photos. The fact that Derek looks grumpy in all of them can’t be helped. 

\-----------

Derek and Stiles are sitting at the porch while Derek stares intently at the pictures Stiles just handed him.

He's frowning down at their 'wedding picture'. "Why do I look so..." he trails off but pulls a grumpy face that matches the look he has in the picture. 

Stiles pats his shoulder. "You can't help it, dude, you have resting bitch-face."

Derek frowns even more. "Don't call me dude." 

"Alright, honey."

"Don't call me honey either. I have a name. Use it."

"Aww, but you love it when I call you honey. You find it the least offensive of my myriad of creative nicknames for you."

"Use. My. Name."

"You got it, Danny-boy."

Derek rolls his eyes and gives up. He flips through the photos again, but they don't look familiar at all and they certainly don't jog any memories. After a while he gives them back to Stiles who carefully puts them back into the envelop they came from. 

"Nothing?" Stiles asks. 

He shakes his head. 

"Don't worry. You heard the doctor, it just takes time." They sit in silence for a little while. "Look I've got to get to work, will you be okay?" Stiles says finally.

Derek nods and stays sitting on the porch until Stiles is gone. Looking at those pictures has taken away some of the doubt he still felt. This is his life and he's made a mess of it so far...but there's no reason that can't change. He stands up and goes in search of a bucket. It's time to clean some windows. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Posse-magnetic on Tumblr wanted this fic, but the link doesn't work anymore. Did ya change your name?
> 
> Anyways, please comment. I adore comments. I love them like Stiles loves curly fries.


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